


can't help falling

by CloudCover (RainyForecast)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hockey Player!Sid, M/M, Meet-Cute, grocery checker!Geno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:32:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14188005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/CloudCover
Summary: When he takes the checker job, Zhenya doesn’t do much thinking about where the Giant Eagle he works at is located.What really drives it home is looking up from the quinoa, brussels sprouts, salmon, and box of Captain Crunch cereal on his belt late one night straight into the eyes of Sidney Fucking Crosby.For malkinmecrazy. Inspired by all the random fan photos of Sid in grocery stores.





	can't help falling

                                                

 

 

When he takes the checker job, Zhenya doesn’t do much thinking about where the Giant Eagle he works at is located. Sewickley is kind of a ritzy area, which is nice in that he feels pretty safe walking to the bus stop from work. Not that his height and gender don’t usually protect him, but still.

What really drives it home is looking up from the quinoa, brussels sprouts, salmon, and box of Captain Crunch cereal on his belt late one night straight into the eyes of Sidney Fucking Crosby. 

Zhenya blinks a little in surprise, and watches a look of resignation settle on Sidney Crosby’s face, followed by a polite smile. He’s expecting to be asked for an autograph, Zhenya realizes.

“Have Advantage Card?” Zhenya says, blandly, carefully schooling his face into complete neutrality.

“Uh, no?” Sidney Crosby says.

Zhenya rattles off the little mini-speech about signing up for the store savings program (ludicrous, as he’s talking to a multi-millionaire) while quickly whisking his items across the scanner. He tries to hide his amusement at the cereal (Captain! Crunch!) but he must not totally succeed, because Sidney Crosby coughs awkwardly and says “cheat day” without looking at Zhenya’s eyes.

“Important to have,” Zhenya says back, which does make Sidney Crosby look at him, and smile a little. “So many kind cereal, in America. Crazy. I should try this one?” He jabs a finger at the Captain Crunch.

“It’s peanut butter,” Sidney Crosby says, then laughs at the face Zhenya makes. “It’s good! I swear!”

“Hm, Sidney Crosby best hockey, but favorite cereal?” Zhenya makes an exaggerated “ehhh” face and waggles his hand back and forth. “Secret safe with me, promise.”

“Thanks,” Sidney Crosby says, and it’s warm, and he’s…smiling. It’s a lot to deal with, that smile.

“Have good night,” Zhenya says, and then Sidney Crosby is gone.

 

 

* * *

 

He sees him a lot, after that. Zhenya works the closing shift, and Sidney likes to come in late, when it’s quiet. He could easily use a delivery service but Zhenya suspects he kind of likes getting his own groceries. He greets Zhenya with a smile and a “Hey, man,” now and it shouldn’t make Zhenya feel as warm as it does.

Once a month, like clockwork, Sid will buy one cheat item. Usually Reese’s Puffs or Captain Crunch, but sometimes ice cream or cookies. He has a peanut and chocolate fixation that makes Zhenya shake his head. He gently gives Sidney shit about it from time to time, until one night when the store is especially deserted, Sidney rolls his eyes, and after paying for his groceries, immediately rips open his package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. He brandishes one at Zhenya.

“Put up or shut up,” he says with a grin, and with a demonstrative sigh and a lot of eye rolling Zhenya takes the candy and bites into it. Sidney busts out laughing at the look on his face. Zhenya may not be a peanut-butter-in-everything fan, but the loud, genuine laugh? That, he loves.

 

 

* * *

 

The Pens hit a rough patch, and Sidney is having a scoring drought. The radio broadcast Geno sneakily listens to during game nights is sounding ever more dire in their discussion of the struggling team.

The worst part of it is the drawn, tired look on Sidney’s face when he comes in to buy his groceries. It’s the end of the month, the day Sidney usually treats himself. He’s as predictable as a person can be.

Except for tonight. No dessert or brightly colored cereal box in sight. Zhenya frowns. “No cheat day snack?”

Sidney heaves a bone weary sigh. “Um, yeah. Things aren’t…not this month.”

Zhenya looks at the defeated slump of his shoulders and feels his chest ache in sympathy, and his pulse spike in frustration.

“No,” he says with such vehemence that Sidney snaps his gaze up, eyes wide. Zhenya reaches over, and plucks two packages of Reese’s from the candy display and practically slams them on the belt. “Not your fault, Sidney. Should not punish self. Not healthy.” He glares at Sidney, and Sidney stares back at him. The vulnerable look in his eyes makes Zhenya soften. “Be more kind to yourself,” he says, gently, probably too much feeling bleeding into his voice.

Sidney blinks, then looks down at the Reese’s. “You’re right,” he says, voice low and husky. “It’s been rough, lately. The slump, you know.”

“Don’t read shitty news story,” Zhenya says. “You know we love, yes? Pittsburgh? Whole city love. Team too. Nobody work harder than you, everybody say so. Don’t have to carry alone.” He’s crossing all kinds of boundaries here, but the tension is visibly leaving Sidney’s shoulders. “Think you only guy on team? Gotta do everything yourself? Wow, Superman!” Sidney smiles at the teasing, a soft, small thing that makes Zhenya want to lean over and press his lips to the curve of it.

“Thank you, Geno,” Sidney says. “You’re right about that too.”

“I’m smartest,” Zhenya blusters, to distract from the red flush of his cheeks or the emotion fluttering in his traitorous chest.

 

 

* * *

 

The accumulated familiarity of months of small talk is a funny thing. Sidney knows about how much Zhenya misses his family and that he doesn’t try to cook his mother’s recipes because it just makes him feel worse and Zhenya knows that Sid’s sister is going to university in Minnesota and has recently adopted a cat and keeps sending him Snapchats of it with captions calling him “Uncle Sid.”

Zhenya knows the season is drawing to a close, and that whatever happens, playoffs or no, Sidney will be leaving for several months, and that Zhenya will miss him. More than he wants to admit, even to himself.

 

 

* * *

 

Sid comes in one night in late March with his sister, who must be on spring break. They’re laughing and joking as they walk up to the checkstand, and it makes Zhenya feel warm and fond to see Sid so happy, especially now with playoffs looming.

As they put their purchases on the belt, Taylor Crosby takes a good look at Zhenya, and grins.

“You’ve  _got_  to be Geno,” she says, with the same funny Canadian vowels as Sidney. Zhenya blinks in surprise. Sid…mentioned his grocery checker to his sister?

“Best checker, not surprised you even hear about me in Minnesota,” Geno says, raising a mock-prideful eyebrow as Taylor laughs a less honk-y version of her brother’s laugh. “How’s cat?”

“He’s  _so_  cute?” Taylor enthuses, and digs out her phone to show Zhenya pictures, giving a sidelong, amused look at her brother as she does so.

After Henry the orange tabby has been suitably admired and Sidney’s groceries have been bagged, Taylor gives Zhenya a big, impish smile.

“So,” she says. “You single, Geno? Because you seem awesome. Any chance you wanna give me a phone number?” She literally bats her eyelashes at him. He thought people only did that in books.

Zhenya can feel his entire face go flame red, and he looks down at his hands. Was he too friendly? He thought he’d just been acting a normal amount of friendly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t…like girls.”

“How about boys?” Taylor says, and the amount of glee in her voice is so weird that he looks up at her and frowns.

“Taylor,” Sidney says sharply, and Zhenya flinches. He feels a little sick, thinking that this might be the end of his and Sid’s talks. How awful, to find out Sid is the kind of person to be bothered by Zhenya’s sexuality. He didn’t leave Russia to continue hiding who he is, though. He squares his shoulders, and his voice is flinty when he says, “Yes. Like boys. Total is 46.85.”

“Oh— no, hey, Geno,” Sid says, worriedly. Zhenya doesn’t look at him, just swivels the credit card reader so it faces him.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor says, and she really does sound sorry. “I was just—” Her gaze darts towards her brother, and then back again. Her expression is painfully sincere. “I shouldn’t have teased.”

Zhenya doesn’t want to look at Sid, doesn’t want to see discomfort in his eyes, so he just looks at Taylor, trying to smile reassuringly at her. “No worries,” he tells her, but she still seems upset.

“Geno,” Sid says again, so firmly that Zhenya does look at him. He’s looking at Zhenya with the same intensity Zhenya’s seen from him on the ice. It sends a shiver down Zhenya’s spine.

“She was asking…for me,” Sidney says, and  _what_? Zhenya’s eyes go wide. “She knew I— I mean, don’t worry, I was never gonna, this is your place of work, and I had no idea if you were straight, or if you already had someone—”

Sidney Crosby is blushing. Sidney Crosby is tripping over his words. Sidney Crosby is looking right into Zhenya’s eyes, as his own shimmer with resolve. Sidney Crosby is talking about  _asking Zhenya out_.

“No,” Zhenya says, faintly. “Not straight. Don’t have any one. Like…this one guy a lot. Out of my league, so I’m not say anything. Best hockey player, worst taste in cereal, candy. Everything is peanut butter.”

As he speaks, Sid’s expression melts into a wide, squinty-eyed smile, the kind Zhenya knows he makes when he’s happiest. “You aren’t out of anyone’s league, Geno, that’s stupid.” It’s breathtakingly sappy and it makes Zhenya want to kiss him  _all_  over his ridiculous face.

“Oh, for sure?” Zhenya asks, in an imitation of what is practically Sid’s catchphrase, since his mind has gone blank and he can’t think of anything else to say. It’s possible he’s dreaming.

Sid laughs, bright and happy. “For sure.” He leans into Zhenya’s space, strong forearms folded on the little counter thing where people set their wallets. Zhenya can smell his spicy aftershave and can see the rich gold-green of his eyes. His own drop to the rosy swell of Sid’s unfairly beautiful mouth.

“Give me your number, G?” Sidney says, and Geno nearly drops his pen getting it out. He scrawls his cell number on the back of Sid’s receipt. Sid takes it, and looks at it, and tucks it away in his wallet like it’s something special. Something precious.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder as he shepherds his smug looking sister out of the store. When the Crosby Siblings are gone, Geno slumps against the register, accidentally sending the cash drawer shooting out into his midriff.

Sid’s going to text him. Sid  _likes_  him. 

 

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

_Hey_ , reads the text he receives not half an hour later.  _Would you like to get some dinner sometime?_

_Yes_ , he replies.  _Would love. But no peanut butter._

_Deal :)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta'd. 
> 
> Title is from "Can't Help Falling In Love," covered by various artists. 
> 
> You can find me as [knifeshoeoreofight](http://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/) (hockey blog, where I'm most active) and [creaturesofnarrative ](http://creaturesofnarrative.tumblr.com/) (main) on Tumblr, and as @RainyForecast on Twitter. Come say hi!


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